The Lieutenant's Promise
by Foresaken-Shadow
Summary: Riza never intended to lie to him. M for violence.


A/N: So…I've just gotten into _Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood_. A friend showed it to me, and I've watched around 40 episodes…aaaand I love Mustang and Hawkeye. So I wrote a little one-shot. Go easy on the reviews, as the 40+ episodes of _FMA: Brotherhood_ are the only things I've been exposed to for this anime. Never read the books, never saw the old series. Anyway, enjoy!

**The Lieutenant's Promise**

Riza never intended to lie to him.

Rated M for violence.

x x x

Foosteps echoed in an empty hall. Regardless of its vacancy, the woman could hear the whispers being exchanged behind the walls. Central was dying. Those left fighting for good were being snuffed out one by one, and yet somehow she had managed to survive. It was well known, albeit kept quiet, that the place was swarmed with Chimeras and Homunculi, but no one said a word unless they wanted their head severed clean off their neck.

This being said, Riza Hawkeye coiled her fists and grit her teeth, clutching a short stack of papers to her chest as she maneuvered down familiar halls—halls she had once been happy to be a part of. Now the woman preferred to be anywhere but, despite the fact she had devoted her life to the military. She sighed quietly to herself, considering the sad place she had fallen to as Bradley's assistant, but smiled inwardly at the small task she had been given. It would prove to be a reprieve, if only for a moment.

"Colonel?" she called quietly, rapping her knuckles on the door already propped ajar.

He had grown. Fast approaching thirty, the lines on his face and the shadows under his eyes aged him well beyond his years. Yet, when she called for him, the slight amount of light that fell on his face was enough to erase at least half of the age. At the same time the ever-diligent colonel kept a stony face in check, addressing her with a simple, "Lieutenant."

She nodded slightly before entering, careful to close the door silently behind her. Whatever time she had in the room she was going to take advantage of; under Bradley's eye she rarely got to speak her mind, she always held her breath and kept her eyes low. Mustang, she knew, held her in much higher regards.

"The Fuhrer requests that you sign these," she began strictly. The papers fell noisily to the desk and fluttered around a bit, Roy scrambling after the fly-aways as if his life depended on it. Riza smiled to herself but it quickly vanished when she realized just how wedded to his job Roy was. Even though Central was swarmed with villainous creatures, Colonel Mustang was there to protect the people of the country and provide fair service to all.

The moment passed as soon as he opened his mouth. "Good to see you're still alive," he mumbled. It sadly wasn't a joke.

"Same to you," she replied.

He glanced up towards her from under his messed hair and smiled in the slightest. "Loosen up. I can't fire you. Take advantage of the lack of Homunculi eyes on you."

"I'm trying," she replied, honestly struggling to let her shoulders slouch even in the slightest.

Scrawling a signature on another page in silence, Roy soon added, "I'm wondering why it is you haven't quit."

Riza felt as if someone punched her in the chest. His inquiry was literally a blow to her being, knocking out a breath and her train of thought. She had spent countless years in Central. To quit…

"E-Excuse me?"

He glanced to her for another split second. "Yes?"

"Why would I quit?" she snapped.

"You don't work for me anymore. I imagine Bradley's hell for you. I thought you were always bent on working for the greater good, or perhaps I was mistaken all these years?" Roy replied calmly, clearly unfazed by her shocked reaction.

She forced a laugh. "Think you're just center of the universe, do you Colonel?"

"Please," he smirked to himself.

"I joined the military to protect our people."

Roy's snark face instantly vanished. He remembered the Ishvalan massacre well. He remembered the look in Riza's eyes, seeing her again for the first time since her father's death…seeing her previously warm eyes turn hideously cold and murderous. He looked upon her again and could not find the former shadow of a girl he knew. The woman that stood before him was the sharp shooter Lieutenant Hawkeye, his right-hand woman forever and always watching his back when he was unable to. Always telling him he was worthless in the rain, and always desperately chasing after him when he refused to listen to the truth. He couldn't fathom how he had endured the past few weeks without her.

He uttered a huff of a noise and looked down to the paperwork again. A good minute passed before he finally set the pen down and stood up, abandoning the work all together. He made for the door but stopped and turned towards her before walking past his desk. "Tell me," Roy said, "would you have joined the military had I not sought out your father for alchemy training?"

"Sure," she replied in short. "It seems feasible, father always spoke of the state alchemists in high regard—"

"But you had no desire to learn."

"Regardless—"

"Surely you had another dream before your father's passing."

Riza's jaw clenched. "Hear whatever the hell you want, then." She had half the urge to turn and leave. Roy caught her by the wrist before she could.

"I don't want you to die here," he murmured. "Not because of me."

"Why the sudden change of heart?" she whispered.

"I don't have control of the situation any more."

She hesitated. "I'm not leaving."

Silence hung in the air. Roy released her.

The words hung on the edge of his tongue, he knew they were there, but he couldn't get them to form the right sentences for the situation. Riza staring him straight in the eye didn't help either.

Then their lips pressed together. Roy was caught off guard and Riza stepped away quickly. They stood there, less than a foot apart, she gauging his expression and he trying to figure out what exactly had just occurred, when suddenly his hands were on either side of her neck and they were at it again, drinking deeply from one and other.

She was not leaving him, not until death claimed one or both of them.

But time was short, cruel, and often played jokes on those unfortunate enough.

Suddenly Riza was not breathing, rather she was choking and sputtering as a significant amount of blood rose in her throat. Roy stepped away this time, holding her at arm's distance before he saw it—the dual swords protruding from her chest. They gleamed even in the terrible office light, each coated in a sickening shade of red.

"Riza," he uttered. Her eyes, wide with panic, acknowledged him, but she was struggling over air too much to speak his name.

The blades retreated in the blink of an eye, and the Fuhrer Bradley stepped around the woman as she slumped out of Roy's arms and crumpled to the floor. She soon died there, her last breath leaving her in a hiss as blood pooled around her now fragile-looking body.

"That was your final test, Riza Hawkeye. Unfortunately, you failed miserably," Bradley grunted, looking upon the girl lying between the men's feet.

Roy was frozen into shock. For a long moment his arms were still outstretched as if to grasp her shoulders, though nothing was there to hold. As Riza's body went lax on the floor, his eyes went wide at the realization of it all. She had kissed him. She had joined this corrupt military because of him. Perhaps she had even loved him. And she died there, not even a minute ago, in _his_ office.

The fire burned in his veins before he even conceived the thought to attack. Yet as he snapped his hand out towards the Fuhrer, the circle on his glove lighting malevolently, something wet showered his arm and his face. Eyes narrowed, Roy found the Fuhrer holding an empty glass of what was once ice water. Irritated that his alchemy could be foiled in such a ridiculous manner, Roy turned and threw a coiled fist into the man's face instead. A definite crack echoed as a result, and Roy pulled back his hand without injury.

Bradley's head was forced to the side a mere inch. It was pathetic how such tremendous rage could only do so little damage to his form. Chuckles escaped the man as he let Roy strike him not once, but three times, before he drew his sword and slashed at the air before his face. Initially, the alchemist thought the man had missed. He was sadly mistaken when suddenly his front was awash with red. Once again Roy's eyes went wide before squeezing shut entirely at the pain of it—it was horrible but not enough to kill, he knew, it was just a surface wound that would only bleed badly for a few minutes. His arms wrapped around his chest tightly before he sank to his knees, grimacing and apologizing for lost time to Riza's body.

"Get up," the Fuhrer snarled.

Roy could not.

"I will make you wish for death," he warned.

"Do as you wish," Roy breathed. He would never break. This was a fact they both knew—from when Roy believed in Bradley and trusted him with personal details. The Fuhrer knew Roy's strengths, as well as his crushing weakenesses.

This being said, Roy felt as if he'd been kicked to the ground when he opened his eyes and found a sword through Riza's pallor face.

"You leave her be!" the Colonel snarled, somehow finding the strength to stand and even lung at the Fuhrer—his face ablaze with twisted delight. Roy was an arm's length from the beast when the sword struck him again, this time through the side—the exact same spot Lust had cut into before. If his jaw hadn't clenched so from pain, he likely would have screamed. It was like poison, burning and gnawing away at the scar, tearing back into the old wound.

"Tell me," the Fuhrer murmured, "do you wish for death?"

Roy grimaced and resisted flinching as the Fuhrer began to twist the blade in his side. The scent of blood, his own and hers suddenly swelled in his nose. Tears strung in the back of his eyes. In all of two minutes, his heart, his body, and his life had been shattered to irreparable pieces. And yet, as one tear rolled down the length of his face, he gnashed his teeth, staring at the image of the broken woman beneath him, and snarled, "Never."

But to imagine this world without her…it was nearly enough to kill him.


End file.
